The Prince's Secret
by Galadriel72
Summary: For years, Keyla has been admiring Prince Thorin from afar. Being an outcast in the dwarf village at Erebor, she watches him visiting the village market one day. When fate brings him close to her, she seizes her one chance ever to touch him, even if only for a fleeting moment ... By Author Deborah Court ("Bound to the Prince") All rights belong to their respective owners.
1. Chapter 1

Every Iron Day, she secretly watched Prince Thorin as he came down to the village to the annual fair and market, strolling along the main street with his young nephews, Fili and Kili. His manly beauty took her breath away, just like every time she had seen him before. Not that she'd ever had a chance of catching his eye. Even if the villagers tolerated her well enough, every time a male dwarf directed his gaze to her, he quickly turned away when he noticed her hideous appearance. Some managed to hide their repulsion politely. Others stared at her with open disgust. They thought her painstakingly thin, with long, ugly limbs, hands and feet that were far too small for their taste. Her height didn't matter much, although she was taller than most dwarves. Only very few, among them the prince, towered over her. But the worst thing was that she didn't have a beard - not even the tiniest wisp along her jawline.

Keyla Slatestone, about twenty years old since she never learned the day of her birth, was named after the place her dwarven parents had found her: A massive block of slate near Erebor, where she had lain as a baby, left back to die by her own kin. Eldur, a merchant who had been on his way back home, had come across the tiny, wailing human that had been draped in dirty rugs. He couldn't bear the thought that the child would be eaten by some passing animal, or die of hunger and thirst. Deciding to bring it to the next human settlement the next day, he took the little girl home to his wife, who was childless and convinced her husband to raise her as their own daughter. Sadly, her parents died only a few years later, both lost to the same fever that took a third of the dwarves' population in a matter of weeks.

Afterwards, she was sent from house to house, raised by the whole village who felt obligated to her deceased father and mother. However, no one seemed to care for Keyla, since she didn't talk much and was deemed dumb. In fact, she wasn't talked about at all, and no one ever dared to mention her to King Thrór, or to those close to him. For who would want to bring shame on himself and his family by raising a human in his household? As soon as Keyla was old enough to live on her own, she was placed in an old, abandoned hut outside the village, at the forest's edge. She went to the market once a week, earning a meager income by selling vegetables she grew in her garden, and eggs by some chicken he had managed to buy. Apart from that, she was an outcast, and lived on her own.

Today, she had her own little both at the market, neatly stocked with the goods from her small farm. Many people had come to the village, dwarves and humans. She loved this day - it was the only time of the year she didn't feel so awkward but vanished in the crowd. Nevertheless she wore a wide cloak over her dress, and had pulled her hood forward to cover her human features. It was better for business anyway. One day, when she had saved enough coins, she would leave this place for good and settle down in one of the humans' cities, far enough to start anew. Maybe she could buy a little shop in some market town. No one would miss her here. Her parents were long dead, and the few friends she had made among the other children were grown up now. Even they didn't dare to recognize her anymore, for they feared their parents' disapproval.

When Prince Thorin drew near her booth, she made sure to hide deeply in her overcoat, but underneath watched him with wide eyes. Gods, he was a handsome man. She was sure that no warrior, male or human, possessed the width of his shoulders, or such strong arms. His whole being seemed to radiate power, strength and integrity. But he also held himself with a quiet dignity that made everyone accept his authority. People succumbed easily to his will, even if he was just a young dwarf, his beard not even long enough to touch his chest but cropped closely to his handsome chin.

His clear blue eyes were constantly scanning the place as he walked, taking in every detail he saw. There was a fierce intelligence in their depths, and definitely a spark of humor. While his younger nephews constantly chatted about, making jokes and flirting with the blushing women who were selling their wares, the prince kept himself quiet, apart from occasional remarks to his companions. It was a tradition that the royal family went to the village that day, spending Iron Day with the peasants. They even joined the famous dance around the fire at midnight, since this late summer's day, shortly before the harvest, was a celebration of fertility. Every year, the heir to the throne chose a maiden among his subjects and opened the dance with her. Keyla had never seen it herself, but quickly packed up her goods and went home before the evening's festivities started. Without knowing why, she had never wished to watch the prince dancing with one of the prettiest girls. However, she'd heard that whomever he chose, this one dance would bestow a great honor upon the girl and her family, and from that day, she would be a prize to all the men who wished to marry. Usually, the woman quickly found an eager, wealthy suitor who bid for her hand. The villagers hoped the prince would choose his own bride among their daughters one day. However, none of them had caught his attention for longer than just this one dance.

When Thorin finally walked by her stand, an unexpected crowd gathered around him and his nephews. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the young princes, maybe get the chance to bow to them and present themselves. The two guards, who had been subtly following Thorin, Kili and Fili in case they needed protection, quickly stepped into the peasants' way, making the princes step back. All at once, Thorin stood right at Keyla's booth. They were only separated by the narrow table she had stacked her eggs upon, and for a moment, their arms brushed. It was a hot day, and besides his trousers, boots and sword belt, he wore just a deep-blue shirt that hugged his strong shoulders and chest. It clung a bit to his wide back, and she caught a sniff of moss, mingled with a hint of the clean, musky essence of his fresh sweat. Keyla's arms beneath her cloak were bare, and she felt the warmth of his skin all the way through the fine silk that covered his arm. His face was averted, his attention drawn to the gathering people who had suddenly began to push forward, all-too-eager to see him. But he was close, so close.

His long, dark brown hair fell openly over his shoulders. As usual, he wore it in a simple style, with only two braids at his ears. She just couldn't help herself. Everyone was looking elsewhere, especially the prince himself. Cautiously, she stretched out her hand and touched his hair, very lightly. It was surprisingly soft, and smelled heavenly, emanating the fine, male scent she already recognized as his very own. With a small sigh, she retrieved her hand, glad that he hadn't felt it caressing his tresses. But he still didn't look her way. What if she …?

Before she knew it, she leant slightly forward and placed a soft kiss into the dark, silky mass, inhaling his wonderful, seductive smell. Smiling, she closed her eyes, savoring the moment. This might be her only chance in life ever to touch him, to come so close just once, and she had seized it.

She had already begun to draw back when she opened her lids, but was abruptly jerked back into reality by a sudden movement. The heavenly mass of hair brushed over her arm as the prince moved his head …

… and directly stared into her eyes, his face close to hers. He had caught her.

She gasped, wanted to run, but felt herself unable to move at all. His eyes pierced her, looked right into her soul. _He knew._ She blushed to the roots of her hair when she became aware that he realized what she had been doing.

Gods, what had she been thinking? It was forbidden to touch a member of the royal family without their consent, or talk to them without being asked to. She knew that it would be just a few moments before he'd call his guards and have her arrested.

Instead, he just continued staring at her, so close that their breath mingled. "Now, what have we here?" he murmured in a deep, low voice that sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't utter a single word, just held her breath while her heart was racing, pumping her blood through her veins so hard it hurt inside her chest. Surely he must hear the wild, frantic beating, too. It was the only sound she heard, thundering in her ears.

His hand went up to her hood, lifting it from her head. His sharp eyes were on her, taking in her pale, fine-boned face, her beardless cheeks, her curly, sun-streaked hair. She stared at him wordlessly, mesmerized by his intense gaze. His eyes seemed to light up for a moment, but she couldn't tell how he felt about her unexpectedly human appearance. But it wasn't disgust what she saw, nor anger for her shocking behavior. She just looked at her, looked _into_ her.

Then, very slowly, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Without knowing why, she quickly licked her lips and opened them a bit. His eyes widened, and she realized that his breathing had become fast and shallow, too. A sound escaped from his chest, a deep, low rumble. She didn't know what it meant, but it made her feel so weak that she grabbed the table in front of her, steadying herself before she humiliated herself even more and dropped to the ground right before him.

He opened his lips again to say something, but right at this moment all hell broke loose. There seemed to be some riot in the crowd as more and more people rushed down the narrow street, forcing the guards and the prince's nephews to retrieve. Suddenly, Thorin was pushed over the table, right into Keyla. She was so surprised that she didn't even notice when he grabbed her, slung a strong arm around her waist while they went down to the floor, landing in a heap of broken eggs. During the fall, he had somehow managed to turn around so he landed on his back, with Keyla lying right on top of his body. Completely in shock, she just breathed deeply, trying to recover for a while. She didn't have the faintest idea how this had happened, but her face was buried in the crook of the prince's neck, against his warm, heated skin while his arms were all around her, protecting her. Only faintly she heard his voice asking if she was all right, felt his hands touching her back as if he wanted to check if she was hurt.

Seconds later, she was roughly grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground. Two spears were pointed right at her throat, and she stared up into the faces of two particularly furious palace guards.

"Damn," she murmured, hardly aware that this very word had escaped the prince's lips at exactly the same moment.

_(To be continued …)_


	2. Chapter 2

Keyla stared at the crowd gathering around her. Her head was fully uncovered now. She saw those who had raised her, who had given her food and shelter, but never love, turn away in shame. There were whispers, murmurs, all around.

"How dare she enter the village on such a day?"

"She should have stayed in the woods, where she belongs."

"Eldur should have left her to the wolves. She is a dishonor to all of us."

"Look, how ugly she is!"

"Did she really …"

"Human!" roared one of the guards, touching her neck with the tip of his spear. "Tell me your name."

" Keyla Slatestone," she stuttered. " I … I am so sorry, but …"

"She has attacked Prince Thorin!" a female voice shouted from the back of the crowd.

"Kill her!" came another one, shrill with excitement. Unmoving, Keyla watched the hate-ridden faces. All eyes were directed towards her. As more and more voices rose, the sharp blade at her throat pressed closer, prevented her from speaking further. She would have tried to defend herself, but actually, there was nothing to say. She was accused of trying to harm Thorin, and no one would believe a human woman in their midst, the demon spawn, as some called her behind her back. Besides, she wasn't even allowed to touch him, and she was positively guilty of _that_ crime.

The guards seemed to discuss her fate, for they talked to each other in a low tone. Kili and Fili, the younger princes, stared disbelievingly at their usually dignified and regal uncle, who lay on the ground beside a human girl, his flawless clothes now stained by broken eggs. A few even had landed in his hair. An egg's white slowly trickled down his forehead and gathered in one of his impressive eyebrows. But he didn't even seem to notice. His face was unmoving, like a statue's, as if he contemplated what had happened to him. All the time, she heard the bystanders' agitated voices, demanding severe punishment for her - prison, torture, death.

She prayed to Aule and the Seven Fathers in their stone chambers, hoping they'd find a way to save her. But would they listen? She wasn't even a dwarf. There was no doubt that she was already dead. Desperately, she closed her eyes, expecting the worst. She would either be killed right on the spot, or they'd drag her up to the mountain to throw her into the prison caves. According to rumors, a traitor who was brought there was never seen again.

What she didn't expect was that Prince Thorin jumped up to stand protectively over her.

"Silence!" he thundered, and his order was followed immediately. All at once, the angry mob fell quiet. No one dared to utter a single word as all eyes were on their prince. Thorin only seldom spoke in public, but when he did, his deep, expressive voice made those who listened to him succumb easily to his will. His knowledge and wisdom were said to be far beyond his age. As a youth, the prince had often traveled far away, to distant dwarf kingdoms, vast human lands and even occasionally visited the elves. He was said to prefer spending long hours in the king's library to wielding his axe, although he was as skilled with a weapon as any dwarven warrior, having been taught well by his brother-in-arms Dwalin, son of Fundin. When King Thranduil had visited Thorins Grandfather, Thrór, to pay him respect, the young prince had been seen in deep conversation with the elven monarch at the accompanying feast, asking him countless questions about his people, and the origins of the dwarves. Afterwards, he had only spoken with the highest admiration whenever Thranduil was mentioned at Erebor's court.

At this moment, however, the prince didn't seem in the mood for polite chatter. "Cease this nonsense immediately!" he growled. "Have you gone insane? This girl hasn't done anything to harm me."

Aghast, Keyla raised her eyes to him. Thorin shook the broken egg shells from his thick, wavy hair and impatiently wiped his brow. His eyes pierced the bystanders, daring them to laugh. When no one did, he suddenly replaced the scowl on his face with a smile. Slowly, he reached out with his hand to help Keyla up. She simply stared at him, unbelieving. He looked into her eyes, winked and nodded very slightly. When she dared to give him her hand, he pulled her to her feet. There were sounds of disbelief from the villagers who couldn't do much but stare at the scene unfolding before them.

To her utter astonishment, Thorin didn't release her hand, but raised it to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles that made her knees go weak. Keyla couldn't stop herself from gasping with shock.

"In fact, it was me who approached this fine young woman," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I just asked her to accompany me to the first dance tonight, and she agreed to do me the honor."

With that, he reluctantly released her hand and left her standing behind her booth. Since the prince and his company were leaving, the villagers quickly went into other directions - not without throwing vicious glances at Keyla. They had enough to gossip about now. As she shook off her stupor and hurried to gather her belongings, she thought of the prince's decision. What would the king say when he learned that his grandson had chosen a human girl as his dance partner for the ritual tonight? Most probably, Thorin had saved her life with this noble gesture. She had never wanted to draw so much attention to herself, but for now, she didn't have a choice but to play along with this farce. Hopefully she'd find an opportunity to thank him later.

If she wished it or not, Keyla would be dancing with the prince tonight. This year, it would be her instead of those pretty girls, with their short voluptuous bodies and their soft, fluffy beards. Despite herself, a shot of excitement ran through her body. Then, without realizing what she did, she pressed her lips to the back of her hand, right where he had kissed her. Maybe she was only imagining it, but his warmth still seemed to cling to her skin.

Following a sudden instinct, she looked down the street and met Prince Thorin's eyes. While wandering off with his entourage, he had glanced back one last time. His azure gaze was resting on her again. And he'd seen exactly what she had done - kissing her own hand and tasting the spot where his mouth had been. Instantly she hoped that a hole would appear in the ground at her feet, giving her a chance to hide from her shame and embarrassment. Her cheeks aflame, she turned around and ran.


	3. Interlude: Author's Note

Dear Readers,

It's me, the humble writer of "The Prince's Secret". Just wanted to thank you for all that awesome support and reviews. I was amazed how many of you liked my first two chapters. Since it's not professionally edited like my other books, you'll read what I have spontaneously written, and I hope you'll forgive me the occasional small flaws. Writing fanfic is my little guilty indulgence, but it comes directly from the heart since I don't think much about plots. I just write what I feel, the kind of tale that originates from day dreams and secret fantasies. This is why I love fanfiction so much (I am also an avid reader, by the way) - it's real, uncensored, raw and wild.

The foremost reason that I felt like writing a Thorin fanfic was, of course, Richard Armitage's brilliant portrayal of Thorin Oakenshield in "The Hobbit". The powerful, dignified way this dwarf holds himself, the stunning blue eyes and dark chocolate voice doesn't fail to impress the female audience. It's amazing how RA nailed that role, despite wearing heavy make up and a prosthetic nose. However, being the romance writer that I am, I'm always looking for a love story. So after watching the movie, I decided to re-read the appendices of "The Lord of the Rings". Tolkien definitely was a romantic soul. He dedicated whole chapters to beautiful love stories (Aragorn and Arwen, Luthien and Beren), so I was very hopeful to find out more about Thorin's amorous adventures.

My pulse rapidly quickening (if I may use this highly used phrase), I opened my beloved illustrated (by Alan Lee) edition of LOTR and started to read Appendix A, III: "Durin's Folk". Very interesting, it's about the history of the dwarves, with a brief summary of what happens in "The Hobbit" (I think I'll break down in tears at the end). I even found two fascinating paragraphs about dwarf women, and I particularly liked the fact that the men were very jealous and possessive if they took a wife. It was also mentioned that many of them didn't want to marry at all, because they were, according to Tolkien, "too engrossed in their crafts" *wink, wink* (don't believe it for a second). Dis, Kili and Fili's mother and Thorin's sister, was also shortly mentioned, but not what had happened to her. I like to believe that she and her unknown husband died (probably during Smaug's attack), and that Uncle Thorin looked after them, taking their father's place.

However, this is what I finally found about Thorin Oakenshield's love life. I'm glad I wore my contact lenses - I found it in a tiny, tiny footnote after having scanned the text for the second time.

_**Thorin had no wife. **_

Say what? Are you kidding, Professor Tolkien?

I read it again, turned to the next page to see if there was more. Maybe something like:

"Thorin had no wife, for he had loved a girl in his youth, but she died under tragic circumstances. Afterwards, his heart was broken and he never loved another."

This would have made sense, at least. But simply "Thorin had no wife"? Well, let's admit that Tolkien couldn't know that in later years, Thorin would be played by _"Look back at me"-Smoldering-Mr-Thornton-Shirtless-Guy-of-Gisborne_ Richard Armitage. I am very sure that he didn't imagine his dwarf _that_ attractive.

Knowing the hard facts now, I couldn't help but think about this very strange sentence, turning it around and around in my mind. "Thorin had no wife." Why the heck didn't he? Wouldn't a handsome prince, the heir to the throne, have found a woman who wished to marry him? I mean, _look_ at him!

_Reasons why Thorin should have a wife (or other love interest):_

**1.** Thorin is the king's grandson. The most important thing that dwarf must do (apart from defending his people, working as a lowly blacksmith to feed them etc. etc.) is to make sure that the line of Durin won't be broken. He must simply grab a woman, take her to his huge four-poster bed, take off his clothes to reveal that strong, brawny, chest-dusted-with-dark-hair warrior's body and cover her naked body with kisses while pleasuring her with his skillful dwarf hands before rising over her to plunge deep into …

Sorry, I got taken away. Heir. He must produce an heir (and a spare, as they say) to secure his blood line, of course.

**2.** He is effing handsome, intelligent, brave and loyal.

**3.** He has proven that he'll make a good father by caring for his nephews, Fili and Kili (as stated above).

**4.** He can sing sad songs about lost treasure by the fire, and play the harp.

**5.** He has great hair.

**6.** He might be a poor, homeless prince now, but will be filthy rich once he has defeated Smaug and reclaimed Erebor. (Not that we really care - as long as a dwarf looks so good while swinging his hammer over the anvil)

**7.** He can glower like no one else. Comes in handy to scare away unwelcome salesmen from your doorstep, or the neighbor's mean dog.

_Reasons why Thorin should not have a wife (or love life, at all): _

**1. **

**2. **

**3.** Well, he's busy. I mean, _really_ busy with fighting battles, saving his people from certain death-by-incineration and leading them to the Blue Mountains to create a new life for them. But surely he could spend one night or two a week for that heir-producing I mentioned earlier? Besides, dwarves have a very long life. I guess a hundred years or more will be sufficient to enjoy one's bachelorship and settle down with wife and children, at last.

But seriously: Deep in my heart, I believe that a great man, a warrior and king who lived his whole life with so much passion, must also have had some love life. The only thing I could imagine why he didn't marry is that

**a)** he has loved and tragically lost a woman he loved in younger years.

**b)** he had a secret lady love and couldn't marry her for some reason.

**c)** he secretly had a faible for halflings but simply wasn't lucky enough to meet any for a very long time (this was for you Thilbo shippers out there! ;) ).

By the way, I used one of these possibilities as an inspiration for my story! But I won't tell which. ;-))

For now, farewell and thank you for reading through all of my tiresome post!

xoxoxo

Deborah


	4. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: **__Thank you so much for all the incredible feedback you gave me! I'm overwhelmed how many of you seem to like my story so far. Also thanks for all the reviews (Good heavens - 46 already!). So sorry that I can't answer to all of you, but I've read every single comment. They make me smile, and truly give me motivation to write more of this. So I thought I'd do you the best service by updating soon, and here it is: The "Dance" Chapter. ;))_

_xoxoxo_

_Deborah_

_P.S. Special thanks to overtherisingstar - when I wrote about Kili and Fili being raised by Thorin after - so I thought - the dragon attack, she looked it up. I was wrong with my assumption; here is what she found out: _

_"Fili wasn't born until about 80 years after Smaug claimed Erebor, and Kili was even younger, so Thorin must have been really young when that happened. That also means that Dís must have survived the dragon attack so she could give birth to her sons some 80 years later. She might have died giving birth to Kili, though."_

_Gosh, and I thought that I was a geek! Some of you gals know your Tolkien really well, it seems, so forgive me if I make more mistakes. Of course I've seen the movie and read all of the books (more than once), but I'm not so adept when it comes to those facts. The story is just my personal interpretation of the character I believe Thorin to be, and his love story how it could have happened (in my head, at least) ;)_

A full, silver moon had already risen when Keyla left the safety of the forest and sneaked out towards the large meadow behind the village. A huge fireplace had been erected right in the middle, and the place was crowded with people. None of them danced yet. They wouldn't dare. It was the prince's prerogative to open the annual Iron Day dance, taking on the role of Nim, the god of harvest. It was his right to choose one of the women and take her to dance around the fire seven times, the holy number representing the Seven Fathers who had been created by Aulë himself. The ritual was rooted deeply in the dwarven culture, for it announced the coming of a fertile year. Without it, the villagers believed that their fields would lie barren, and their women stay childless. It had been ten comings of the seasons since the community had been blessed with the birth of a child, and they had awaited this night eagerly, hoping to please the gods this time. The fact that the prince had asked the human girl, as everyone called her, had been much discussed during the day. It was a sacrilege. Something like that had never happened before in this mountains. Many feared that the prince's decision would bring a curse upon their houses. Years of hunger might follow, with not a single child being born. While they had disliked Keyla for her unpleasing looks and her strange ways before, some of them had already begun to hate her. They had saved the human's life, raised her, although she'd never be one of them. Now she repaid them by disgracing this sacred night.

Keyla, however, knew all of this. She wasn't dumb at all, as so many of them assumed, but was just quiet. It was in her nature to observe and listen, learning from what she saw and heard. Since her earliest childhood, she had sensed that she wasn't welcome in this community, but at least the dwarves tolerated her. They treated her gruffly, but with a certain patience and not unfriendly. When they came to buy her fresh vegetables from her weekly booth at the market, they used to talk very slowly to her, as if she were a small child or didn't speak their language. Sometimes it made her furious, but she didn't tell them otherwise. As long as she wasn't a threat to them, they'd leave her alone - and she was quite happy with the simple life she led. Although she felt lonely at times, her hut and garden provided her with enough comfort and food, and she loved to walk and hunt in the woods adjacent to her little home.

Where should she go, anyway? She had no husband to protect her, no money or a roof over her head. In the human world, she had no family to turn to, and surely no one would take her in. Her own kin had left her out in the cold to die, after all. The dwarves had granted her a much bigger favor. Without them, she'd never survived. However, things might soon turn out badly for her after that incident at the market. Although Prince Thorin had saved her honor - and maybe her life -, she knew that she would be watched by many spiteful pairs of eyes this evening. If the harvest didn't turn out good, or anything bad happened, the dwarves might take it as a bad omen, and their mistrust would soon turn to hate.

Luckily, she had already buried a good amount of coins under a tomato plant in her garden. It wasn't enough to buy the shop she secretly wished for, but it would get her through the first time if she had to leave Erebor quickly.

Hesitantly, she entered the meadow. A large circle around the fire had been covered with fresh straw and trampled flat for the upcoming dance. There were several tables holding incredible amounts of food - meat pies, sausages, soups and candied apples, puddings and cakes. A roasted boar was turned on a pike over a smaller fire, along with pigs and chicken. Young lads showed off their strength in an axe throwing contest, a band of musicians played merry songs on a stage. The priestess from the mountain had set up a tent where the dwarves could bring their sacrifices for the god Nim, baskets of fruit, aromatic incense or even a token of gold. As every year, the prettiest girl in the village (not the once chosen for the dance, so it was sometimes just the second-to-prettiest) sold kisses beneath a flower arch. The funds would be given to the poorer families in the village afterwards. She wore her soft, shiny beard in artful braids that were bound to her head hair in an elaborate pattern, held together with purple ribbons.

The view made Keyla remember how plain and naked her own face must look to the young dwarves present. There was no doubt that they thought her as ugly as a cave troll. She wished nothing more than to turn around and run until she reached her quiet, peaceful hut. But tonight, she had promised a dance to a prince. She only hoped he wouldn't show his disgust at her sight too openly. It would be nice to play games for a while. She'd just pretend that he deemed her comely as all the other girls he had asked to dance the years before. Well enough - she should get this over with as quickly as possible. Hopefully she'd be able to go home in peace then.

The villagers who saw her walk by stopped dead in their tracks and stared, of course. They had never seen her so richly dressed. Usually she wore simple brown dresses that wouldn't show the stains from her digging in the garden, and her hooded cloak which she used to hide her face in the shadows whenever necessary.

Keyla wore her waist-long, strawberry blonde hair in a single thick braid she wore over one shoulder. Since she didn't own any hair jewellery, she had woven a few white flowers from her garden into it. She believed that this simple hair style looked best with her gown. The dress of white, shimmering silk with an overrobe of golden brocade had been her dwarven mother's, along with the necklace made of gold coins. They had once belonged to a dragon's treasure, stolen generations ago. The dragon's fire had melted the imprint from their surface, so they lay smoothly against the bare skin of her neck. The dress was adorned with tiny blue crystals stitched to it that reminded her of the prince's eyes, and it left the swell of her breasts uncovered. It wasn't the newest fashion, but in an astoundingly good state, as if it had been sewn just the day before. Selling the dress and necklace would have easily brought her enough money to leave this place forever, but for some reason she had never found it in her heart to give them away. It was the only thing that was left for her by her mother, after greedy relatives had taken away the house she had been living in with her parents.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest when she reached the fire and waited there, staring into the flames. She was fully aware of being watched, and of the shocked voices rambling about her. How could she, a human orphan, dare to dress like a dwarven princess? How could she show no decency, unlike their own daughters, who wore simple, flowing dresses as any maiden should?

A collective gasp made her slowly turn around. The crowd parted and made way for Prince Thorin's entrance. Kili and Fili followed him, but kept a respectful distance this time. The young princes were known to be rascals and often seen in a tavern, or in the arms of pretty girls. But even they sensed the importance of tonight's festivities. The mere sight of the heir to the throne gave hope to his subjects and distracted them from the fact that despite all of Erebor's riches, they were a dying race. A long time ago, they had produced as many children as any human culture would. But then their hunger for gold had taken over, and they had spent more time on perfecting their crafts or digging in the bowels of the earth to marriage and founding families. At some point, the dwarven women had found it harder to conceive a child, and if it happened at all, it was considered a wonder by the whole village.

She watched him approach under half-closed eyelids, so he wouldn't catch her staring at him. He wore a stunning midnight blue tunic over deep black trousers and polished boots. A silver tree with the line of Durin was stitched into the velvet over his wide chest. His hair wasn't open and unruly as he usually wore it, but had been brushed until it shone like a starless night, and braided neatly at his temples. Keyla was positive that every single female in this meadow, young or old, had her eyes on him right now. Well, she couldn't blame them. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Without a single glance to the left or the right, he walked right up to her with his long, graceful strides. He was astonishingly tall, slender for a dwarf, his movements light and graceful despite his obvious strength. Even if his subjects would never comment publicly on his looks, the prince stood out like a war horse among a string of ponies. But he also bore the noble, proud features of his grandfather and father. His royal heritage couldn't be denied.

Standing before her, she finally dared to raise her gaze to his. What she saw in those clear, blue depths completely took her by surprise. She didn't see any sign of distaste. His expression betrayed, how pleased he was to see her, even open admiration. Without any doubt, he approved of the way she looked tonight.

But how? How was this possible? She was the most hideous, ugly woman in this village, at least for a dwarf's taste. How much more must that be the truth considering the many beautiful women the prince must have met on his travels, visiting noble houses and royal courts.

Thorin took her hand, just as he had done this morning, and kissed it. This times, his lingered for a moment longer, and he slightly opened them. The warmth of his breath touched her, and she believed that she felt the tip of his tongue on her skin, so briefly that she just could have imagined it. All the time, his eyes never left hers, keeping her imprisoned.

When he raised his head, he smiled at her, knowingly, and she knew that he thought about her embarrassing gesture earlier. She felt heat flooding her face and quickly looked away. He laughed, a low, deep rumble that made the heat go deeper, spreading in lower regions of her body, as well.

"Fairest maiden, would you grant me the honor of this dance?" he asked, so lowly that only she could hear. She feared that her voice would betray her if she spoke, so she only nodded.

He raised his own hand and called out: "Let the dance begin!" A song with a fast, thundering rhythm started, and for the first time Keyla realized that the music had stopped altogether as soon as Thorin had entered the place. Without forewarning, his strong hands grabbed her waist and drew her with him, whirling her around to the rapid beat of the drums. There were shouts of approval, and the sound of clapping hands. For a fleeting moment she noticed all the faces that were turned into her direction, their expressions slightly changed as they watched their prince dance. It was a spark of hope, the promise of a new beginning.

A small, burly warrior grinned as the couple danced by. "Take her faster, Mylord!" he shouted, and several dwarves around him roared with laughter. "I hope he doesn't wear her out with his hard pace," called another. Keyla blushed again as she understood their meaning and hoped that it looked as the glow of the fire on her face. The prince laughed when he heard them joking. But it was a joyful, happy sound. Obviously, this kind of teasing was part of the fertility ritual, but the men surely seemed to enjoy it. Keyla tried to ignore their crude remarks and concentrated on his face, so close to hers, his hands on her waist, up and down her back. He held her tightly as he started to dance faster indeed, around and around, drawing her with him in a row of jumps and steps, turned her away from him, then back again as he pleased.

The dance seemed to follow a certain sequence that was repeated several times, but Thorin knew every step from the heart. She was glad that he held her so close to him, and guided her movements. On her own, she'd never been able to learn this complicated dance so quickly. It went on and on, seven times around the fire. Sweat was trickling down her spine, and she heard his fast, deep breathing. A few times he crushed her against his body, her breasts to his hard chest, and she could have sworn she could feel his heart beat in unison with hers. The sound of blood pumping and rushing through her ears was as clear as the rhythm of the drums.

Maybe it was the fast, aggressive beat of the music, maybe the feel of his body to hers, but she felt changed in a way she'd never experienced. Her skin tingled, her body tightened with need. There was a liquid heat between her legs that made her ache for someone touching her, feeling a hard pressure against her yielding softness. When the band changed to a slower song, drums being replaced by the seductive sounds of the harp and flute, Thorin stopped. Breathing heavily, his brow slightly glistening with sweat, he lifted her in his strong hands and slowly allowed her to glide down along his body. She sighed softly, relaxing against him with closed eyes. When she opened them again and glanced up to meet his gaze, she gasped at the heat she noticed there. He seemed to have lost his regal demeanor and looked at her as any man who desired a woman - with raw, unveiled hunger.

The primal need in his eyes was obvious. Without thinking, she opened her lips and touched them with her tongue, mesmerized by the intensity of what she felt for him. His eyes dropped down to her mouth, and for an instant, she thought he would kiss her right there, in front of the whole village. But then he took a deep breath and started to dance again, moving her around in slow circles. Her arms slipped around his neck as if they had a life of their own, and his hands were on her, guiding her as he shortly lifted her from her feet and placed her down again. She was hardly aware of the sound of applause that grazed her ears. The villagers started to join in the dance. Some of them, however, stayed outside the circle, whispering about the prince's strange behavior. Even after the opening dance, he seemed to be reluctant to let the human girl go. It was the first time in all the previous years that he had danced for a second time. This was the point where he usually left with a nod and a smile, and returned to the mountain.

But this Iron Day, Prince Thorin stayed for a second dance, and he didn't seem to notice anything but the woman in his arms.


	5. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thanks, again, for your comments! After reading them, I have a feeling that, while you like the fluffy, romantic stuff, you are waiting for things to go further. You want the Thorin smut, right? Well, your wish is my command. At least, very soon ... ;)_

"Why have you kissed me?" Thorin asked when the song came to an end. They stood in a huge crowd of other dwarves who had joined them around the fire, jumping and dancing merrily. It gave them a small amount of privacy, since no one seemed to watch them anymore. Keyla felt so comfortable in his arms, she had been fighting herself not to rest her head on his shoulder. The dance had been exhausting, and the heavenly scent of the dwarf that was currently holding her was intoxicating. She felt slightly drowsy. The prince's question made her head jerk up.

"W…what do you mean?" she said, although her voice was shaking. "I never …"

"You kissed me - well, not really," he said, smiling. "You kissed my hair, I believe."

"I didn't!" she hissed, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She wasn't supposed to contradict the prince, especially when she had been saved from a prison sentence just hours ago. He didn't seem to mind, though.

"Of course you did," he said, calmly. "I'm not so deaf and blind not to notice if a woman kisses me - on _any _part of my body."

"I wasn't kissing your body," she began, trying to ignore the images that invaded her mind: Thorin, naked on her bed, her lips all over him. "I wasn't kissing anything."

He chuckled. "So you didn't. I'll accept that for now. But you surely will, when we fulfill the fertility ritual tonight."

This time she couldn't even think of an answer, but simply stared at him.

"Don't tell me that you've never heard of it. You and me will honor Nim by joining our bodies tonight."

"We most certainly will not!" she managed to cry out. Nevertheless she couldn't keep her traitorous body from tightening with need.

"We must. Doing otherwise would be against the law. It is my duty to impersonate our god during this sacrified ritual - a symbol of Nim mating with Lys, the goddess of the earth. Every year, the eldest son of the king chooses a maiden among his people and takes her innocence. Only when we sacrifice ourselves to the gods, giving each other pleasure, will the ritual be complete." When she didn't answer, his hand went up and cupped her face, gently caressing her lips with his large thumb. "Don't be frightened, Keyla." It felt good to hear his deep, impressive voice speak out her name for the first time.

She closed her eyes, trembling. Involuntarily she opened her mouth, just very slightly, until his thumb touched the moist inside of her lower lip. She heard his barely audible groan. "I'll be gentle with you," he continued hoarsely. "And it won't keep any suitors from asking you for your hand in marriage, should you desire to take a husband. It is an honor to serve the gods, and to grant a future king his right of the first night."

She had to remember how to breathe before she shook off her trance and jumped back, wiping away his hand. Her lip still tingled where he had touched it.

"I will not do this, Mylord!" she said, her eyes blazing with anger. "You only chose me to dance with, like you did with the others. Do you really want me to believe that you …"

She glowered at him while he lifted a brow, smiling gently.

"Oh no, you didn't. You … performed this ritual with every girl you danced with, all these past years?"

He shrugged. "Well, yes. It's only once a year, and they are all happily married now, aren't they? It is an open secret among my people."

The smirk on his handsome face infuriated her even more. "All right then, my Prince. I have to go now. How could I have been so foolish to believe that your help was offered selflessly and that you wanted to save me from imprisonment? But all you thought about was seducing another virgin - me, the poor, cast-out human. Why do you want me, anyway?" she spat. "I'm sure you only have to wave your hand, and beautiful women will throw themselves at your feet."

She hesitated, watching him. He said nothing, but blinked, as if he couldn't believe that someone spoke to him like this. At this moment, she didn't care if he'd have her arrested afterwards. She couldn't keep herself from speaking her mind as years of suppressed anger emerged. "Oh, now I understand. You've never been intimate with a human, am I right? It was the call of the new that drew you to me, nothing more." She didn't know where the tears in her eyes came from, and she angrily blinked them away. Quickly she averted her face so he wouldn't see her crying. It had been the dream of a mindless girl who had been blinded by her weakness for a man she could never have. She heard him call out her name, but she couldn't face him one more time. So she did the only thing possible: She elbowed her way through the crowd and ran, fled from the scene until she could embarrass herself even more.

The woods were close, so she searched the shelter of the trees. She knew the forest very well. It had been her favorite place to hide when the village boys had tried to beat her up as a child. Deciding to return to her house on the forest path, she ventured further until she was safe from any prying eyes. Panting, she leant against a tree and waited for her hammering heart to slow down.

"I knew I would find you here", a deep voice said right behind her. Thorin had run after her, judging from his quickened breathing. His hand closed around her upper arm when she turned away, ready to escape once more.

"Be still", he said. It sounded as if he tried to calm down a frightened animal, his voice warm and soothing. Keyla was surprised that her body seemed to obey his command. Relaxing, she forced herself to look up into his incredibly handsome face. "Why did you follow me?" she hissed. "Do you wish to force yourself upon me, my prince? Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I came to apologize."

This got her attention, and she stared at him, disbelieving. A prince had to apologize to no one. He could do as he pleased and say whatever he wanted. "Why?" she breathed.

"Because I didn't tell you the whole truth," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "About the ritual."

"So you aren't supposed to .. to …," she stuttered.

"Of course not. Well, it wasn't a lie altogether. This ritual used to exist, long ago - with the mating, as I described it to you. My grandfather changed the law when he was young, right after his marriage. I guess my grandmother didn't agree. He kept just the part with the dance around the fire. The priests weren't happy but confirmed that this would be enough to symbolize the meeting of the gods of fertility and the earth."

"But why didn't you tell me that you were jesting?" she asked, still furious.

He grinned. It made his usually solemn face much younger, almost impish. For the first time, she noticed how much his younger nephews resembled him. They just laughed more, and they were said to enjoyed playing pranks. It seemed that their uncle wasn't immune to some joking, too. Unfortunately, she didn't find it funny at all.

"I don't know for sure. I never did something like that before. Maybe it's because you are so quiet, so reserved. Maybe I wanted to say something provocative to lure you out of your shell. You might be right - I actually hoped to finish what you've started at the market today."

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

He bowed his head and brought his face closer to hers. "The kiss," he murmured. "I felt your sweet breath in my hair. I couldn't think of much more else since then. Now I want to kiss you properly."

"Did you do this to all the other girls, too?" she dared to ask. "The ones you danced with, I mean."

"No," he said.

"Why not?" she replied. Her heart was beating rapidly now.

"They weren't like you."

Before she could speak one more word, his arms were all around her, holding her close, and his lips were on her mouth. Taken completely by surprise, she struggled against him for a moment, placing her hands on his chest. But his strength, his passion were magnetic, and she forgot everything but surrendering to his need to claim, to make her his own. Without realizing it, she opened her lips for his exploring tongue. His kiss had begun hard, but now his touch was incredibly gentle, so careful not to frighten her as he deepened the mating of their tongues. For the first time in her life, she was completely warm and comfortable, and she wasn't alone anymore. And somehow she knew that he felt the same way about her.

When she reluctantly drew back, he pulled her to him and pressed his forehead to hers. All the while he caressed her face with his fingertips, then her bare cheeks and jaw. "So beautiful", he murmured. "So soft."

"The ritual," she said, as she entwined her fingers in his hair. "I agree. I'll give myself willingly to you, Thorin."


	6. Chapter 5

Thorin lifted his head and stared at her disbelievingly. "You agree? The ritual hasn't …"

"… been performed in a while, I know. But the harvest hasn't been exactly the best, has it? And what about the fact that no babies have been born in the past ten years? Maybe the ritual has to be performed as it used to be, or the Gods will not hear us. Besides … I like to be with you."

A few moments ago, she had been so angry. She didn't want to be just one of his paramours. However, his honesty had completely disarmed her, and instinctively she knew that he hadn't been with many women before. She heard his sharp intake of breath, felt how tempted he was by her offer. However, she didn't dare to tell him the true reason. It wasn't for the gods. She had loved Thorin since the first day she laid eyes on him, had yearned for those rare opportunities she could watch him. She had hidden among the dwarves whenever the king gave an audience and his grandson was known to attend, listening to the peasants' sorrows and complaints. Although there were many young available men in the village (not that they would have given her more but a few friendly words), none of them made her heart beat faster, and her body tingle with excitement. Soon she'd leave this place forever, and start a new life somewhere, joining her fellow humans as she was meant to be.

Thorin could never be hers. Even if he desired her for more than one night, a dwarven prince wasn't allowed to marry a human, especially a parentless, lowborn peasant girl. It was unthinkable that they'd ever be together, and probably this was her one and only opportunity to be alone with him, to be so close. She knew that he didn't share her feelings, how could he? After all, he'd seen her at the market for the very first time. She didn't understand why he wanted her, why he had kissed her with such passion. But for now, he was here, with her. This night might be her only chance to find some happiness, a memory to savor as long as she lived. She would spend many nights to come alone in her bed, thinking of those few hours of bliss in the arms of the man she loved. Yes, she wanted to give herself to Thorin, Son of Thráin, of all men. And she wouldn't regret a single moment of it, as long as she lived.

With gentle, skillful fingers, he unbraided her hair and arranged it around her shoulders. "Beautiful," he murmured again. "The gods know how much I wish to take what you offer. I burn for you, Keyla. Here, feel it," he said, taking her hand and placed it under the neckline of his tunic, to make her feel the strong thundering of his heart. She gasped with delight when she felt the heat of his naked chest, dusted with soft hair that made her want to follow that trail down, deeper. "It's been that way since I saw you in my grandfather's hall last winter. I was struck with awe when I saw what beauty was hiding beneath that huge cloak." He chuckled. "Afterwards, I must admit that I was curious, and I tried to find out more about you. I'd never heard of a human living in our village before."

"They kept it a secret," Keyla said, astounded that he had known of her existence all along. "But how can you … like the way I look? How can I please your eye, a human?"

"Walk with me," he said. "I want to show you something." He took her hand in his, and they both glanced down at the same time, as if they were surprised how good it felt. Then he pulled her forward, deeper into the forest.

"You might have noticed that I am tall for a dwarf," he said. The trees grew denser here, but the prince seemed to find his way with ease. Obviously, he knew this woods even better than she did. "And that my features … look different."

"I did," she said, stumbling after him. She was afraid of the dark, but his warm fingers gave her courage. She looked at his face, illuminated by the weak moonlight. It was more fine-boned as any dwarf's, his nose not as prominent. He also had those stunning blue eyes, which were in stark contrast to the brown-colored of most dwarven folk.

"There are rumors at court that Durin's blood is weakened, for I don't look very much like the king, or my father," he explained. "They don't think that I can be a strong, resolute leader of my people one day." Before Keyla could protest, he raised a hand. "Let me speak first, and then you'll decide if you still want me."

How could she not want him? She nearly laughed at the thought. "Don't make cruel jokes, my Prince," she said bitterly. "Although I am used to it, I don't think I could take it if it came from you."

He stood abruptly and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She expected a teasing glint in his gaze, but she saw that he spoke the truth. "This is no joke," he said solemnly. "What I am about to tell you is a well-hidden secret. Only a few trusted servants know about my grandmother."

"King Thrór's wife?" she asked. "My parents told me that she was a great beauty, but the king kept her in the mountain. She was only rarely seen in public, and if she went out, she wore a veil. The villagers assumed that some disease had befallen her."

Thorin laughed, but there was no joy in his voice. "A disease indeed. The reason why she never showed herself was that she was half human."

Keyla shook her head. "But this isn't possible. Our kings have always married among their own kind, very careful to preserve the line of Durin."

"True," he said, leading her further into the forest. "She was a princess from the northern tribes, but my grandfather never saw his betrothed before the wedding; her family kept it a secret until he had married her. The truth is, however, that she was a great beauty, and he fell in love with her instantly. The king and queen were very relieved when my father was born, for he showed no signs of human blood and looked just like a dwarf should. But when I entered this world …"

"With time, they realized that you look much like a human," she finished. "But luckily, no one ever doubted your heritage, so you were raised a prince while this is still kept a secret."

He laughed. "Human blood always shows, in my case in the second generation. It's the same with my nephews. Kili looks more human than Fili, though. He hides it well underneath all that wild hair."

"But why did you tell me about it?" she asked. "This is a secret that might cost you your throne if it came out. Why would you trust me me, of all people?"

"I don't know," he admitted, throwing her a sideway glance. "Maybe because I sense that I can trust you. You are human yourself, after all. And you would understand how I've felt all my life - different, not really belonging to anyone." The last words were but a whisper, but they shook her to the core. So he was an outcast, too, in a way - even if it was just the knowledge that he wasn't really what his subjects expected him to be. A real dwarf, his blood untainted by human weakness. A strong leader.

"But you are wrong!" she exclaimed. "Human blood or not, your people admire you, Mylord. You are the bravest, most noble …"

She stopped midsentence when the prince led her out onto a small clearing. It was deep in the forest; even she had never seen it before. Surrounded by old, gnarly willows standing close together, it felt like almost like a room without a roof. Soft green grass covered the forest floor, sprinkled with lovely white flowers that smelled enchanting. But even more remarkable was the long, white marble block that someone had placed there - dwarves, judging from the intricate runes and patterns carved into the withered stone. Keyla had never been properly educated by an elder, but she knew her runes well enough to understand that this was an altar, dedicated to Nim, the god of fertility. Right at this moment, a beam of moonlight broke through the dense canopy of the trees and fell right onto the ancient stone, giving it an eerie beauty.

Reaching the stone, she suddenly she knew what it was meant for. Even if she wouldn't comprehended its meaning, Prince Thorin made it clear when he pulled his soft, knee-length velvet tunic over his head and placed it right over the stone.

It was a bed. A marriage bed for the god and goddess, impersonated by the prince and herself. And at the same time it was a place of worship and sacrifice. It had been there for ages, used to mate by the son of the line of Durin and his chosen one.

Thorin stood before her, naked from the waist up. Not covered by wide shirts or amor for once, his body was as strong as any dwarven blacksmith's, his massive chest, shoulders and mighty arms chiseled by hard physical work. Most probably, he was used to long hours of exercise with swords and battle axes, but Keyla knew that even a future king had to learn the crafts and arts his people were well-known for. King Thrór himself was said to have forged his own sword. Her mouth went dry as her eyes followed the small trace of dark hair that led from his chest to his navel, and further down …

"Come to me, Keyla," the prince said, offering her his hand. When she took it, he placed her fingers over his heart once more. This time, he pulled her close with his free arm and molded her to his body. She drew a sharp intake of breath when she felt his hardness pressing against her hip, letting her know how much he desired her. Slowly, he lowered his head to her neck and kissed her there. The roughness of his beard pleasurably scraped her sensitive skin, his lips lingering at the tender spot beneath her ear.

"The secret I told you was meant as a gift," he murmured. His warm breath grazed her ear and made her shiver with pleasure. "You honored me by offering me to take your virginity, to be the first man to be inside that sweet, luscious body." He smiled when she gasped in surprise, but continued: "In return, I give you my trust. I've placed my life into your hands, my lady. Your gift is more precious to me than all the gold I could ever gain. But if I owned all those riches, I'd like to lay you down on this bed of stone. I'd cover you with the rarest jewels, braiding diamonds into your hair." He lowered his head and crushed her lips with hers, claiming her with his tongue. This time, his kiss was anything but tender, but it sent her blood rushing through her veins as she answered him with equal passion. Her arms were around her neck now, holding on for dear life. Her knees went weak, but he held her tight and safe against his chest, his body fitting hers so perfectly.

After a long while, he broke the kiss. She clung to him, trembling. For a few moments, their breathing was the only sound on the clearing.

"Tell me to stop, Keyla," he said, sounding almost pleading now. His voice was incredibly deep, and slightly husky. She felt the powerful beating of his heart like her own, fast and heavy with excitement. "Just say 'no', and I'll cease. I will take you home with your honor intact, and we won't speak of this night again - although it might torture me forever. Having been so close, never to know how it could have been like, how you might have felt." He breathed a kiss on her hair. "But what if a child …"

"Then I'd be more than happy to love him for the rest of my life, being the best mother I could," she whispered. "You could never dishonor me, Thorin. If this night is all we have, let's not leave each other now. It might be our only chance, and I'll regret it eternally if you don't …"

She never finished the sentence, for the prince took her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss and swept her up into his arms.


	7. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note: **_

_Here is the long-awaited chapter, thanks so much to all of you for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait and you'll like it (can't wait to read your comments!). ;) I know that I'm a day late, but my flu has come back, and this is the first time I've written while having a fever. I leave it to you to decide if it helped to make the chapter "hotter", or if I should have better waited until I'm back to normal temperature *LOL* However, forgive me if due to my condition, it's not perfect, I'll edit it a second time later. But for now, happy reading! For the faint of heart among you: Be prepared for some quite explicit dwarf smut or stop reading. So sorry … NOT! Hahaha. _

_Big hugs,_

_Deb_

######

She'd expected the marble of the white altar to be cold against her skin as Thorin gently lay her down. His velvet tunic cushioned her back, but where her bare skin touched the white stone, it felt warm, almost like a living being. A very old magic still existed in this place, as ancient as the line of Durin. It was indeed a temple, drenched with life.

The prince actually looked like the impersonation of fertility. Bare-chested, he rose above her like a pagan god, beautiful and frightening at the same time. Then his eyes were on her, burning with a passion that consumed her, made her forget all her maidenly fears. Aye, she wanted him, not the prince, but the dwarf in him, as well as the man. The best and most noble abilities of both races were combined in this strong warrior. She rejoiced at the knowledge that he actually, finally was hers, even if only for this one night. Still she couldn't comprehend what he saw in her, why he even deemed her beautiful. However, her thoughts vanished into pure bliss when he pulled her up into the circle of his arms and kissed her.

This time, he wasn't gentle. His kiss was raw and hungry, claiming her boldly. She willingly opened her lips for him, yielding to his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, and he placed his large hand on the back of her head, kissing her deeper. The "yes" inside her head was so loud and clear that it destroyed all other thoughts. After a few moments, she returned the favor, beginning to explore him with the tip of her tongue. He uttered a throaty noise that caused a hidden place between her thighs to throb and burn with need. Suddenly, she knew that it excited her to please him, to give him anything he wanted. And he took it; his will easily overpowering her now. She was astounded about the passion that lay behind his usual calm, controlled demeanor, and she pondered if this was a side he didn't show very often.

When they finally broke the kiss, their breath still mingling, Thorin laughed. It was a primal sound, expressing sheer joy and male triumph, and it made all her restraints melt away. She felt weak as she lay back for him, ready for his touch. His long, skillful fingers unlaced her bodice and slowly pushed it down, his mouth devouring every strip of skin he exposed. His lips moved over her neck, kissing and tasting her with his tongue, then to the swell of her bosom. The dwarf's beard felt wonderfully rough against her skin, so incredibly male.

With a quick motion, he ripped open the rest of her laces and finally shoved the fabric of her bodice down to her waist so her breasts were uncovered. Quivering with need, she felt the moisture building between her thighs as she saw the unveiled desire in his eyes. There was something wild in them. It made her shiver with delight while she imagined the things he'd do to her. Her arms and legs got tangled in the thick fabric of the dress, so she suddenly became aware that she was bound and quite unable to move. She saw a naughty expression flame up in the prince's eyes, so he had noticed, too.

His low chuckle made her skin tingle as his mouth take possession of her breast, covering the mound with hot, moist kisses, then closing around the engorged tip. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips when he suckled there, slowly circling her with his tongue. Her womb clenched, and she felt like fainting. He chuckled as he heard her choked gasp and continued his sensual torture, devouring her other breast. The moisture of his mouth still lingered on her nipple, and she shivered as the cool night air grazed it. Then he bit her gently, and she cried out with pleasure.

She began to struggle against the dress constraining her, aching to touch his glorious body. But instead of helping her, his arms pressed down on hers, pinning her to the stone that by now was warm from the heat their bodies radiated.

"Don't move," he whispered. "The feeling of being bound will only heighten your pleasure. For now, just relax and give in, my lady. You granted me the honor of being your first, and I will make sure that you enjoy every moment. I want you to be ready for me when you'll take me inside you. Do you trust me, Keyla?" His voice was deep and hoarse, and it betrayed his desire. His words seemed to caress her body like hot, liquid honey.

When she lifted his gaze to his, she saw the raw, unveiled need burning in them. She realized that he, too, struggled to maintain control, that he restrained himself for her sake. Slowly, she nodded, unsure what to do next. Her dwarven mother had died too early to tell her anything about what happened in the marriage bed; and afterwards, no one else had bothered. She had seen animals mate, but surely a woman was expected to please her man in some skillful way? She hoped the prince wouldn't be shocked when he learned how ignorant she was.

"Close your eyes," he murmured, obviously guessing her thoughts. "Just feel."

So she complied. Her eyes fell shut as she laid back her head, eager to know what he'd do to her. She heard the rustle of his clothes while he quickly removed his boots and trousers. Then his hands were on her again. He grabbed the hem of her skirt and shoved it up, higher and higher until he reached her thighs.

Keyla gasped. The brocade of her dress was heavy, and due to her thick underskirts, she hadn't bothered to wear anything beneath. Just a little higher, and her moist, aching sex would be uncovered. Would he like what he saw? She knew that dwarven women were covered with a good amount of thick, curly hair down there, just as their legs. What if Thorin felt disgusted with her lack of womanly fur? When she instinctively pressed her knees together, he chuckled again. "No need to be ashamed, beauty," he said. "Let me look at you."

She hesitated shortly, but when she felt him stroke her thighs, his hands sliding between her knees, she allowed him to spread her, opening up like a flower for him. If human blood was flowing through his veins, then maybe a small part of him liked her appearance, recognizing her as his own kind …

Shivering, she waited while he glanced at her fully exposed body. When he inhaled sharply and uttered a deep, pleased grown, she finally relaxed, feeling more confident.

"Aule help me," he said. "You are even more beautiful than I imagined." His large, strong hand slid up her inner thigh, causing her to tremble. "Smooth as silk," he said, caressing her hip, urging her to open wider. She felt moisture slickening her swollen folds. Suddenly feeling like crying with frustration, she moved against him, hoping he'd touch her. She needed it, craved it like the air she breathed. A low sigh escaped her lips when he traced the outline of her sex with his finger, through her short, soft curls before he slid between her folds, gently parting her.

He groaned deeply in his throat when he noticed that she was dripping wet already. His fingertip brushed over her little nub of flesh, and she jerked under his touch, moaning his name. But he didn't linger but went further down, entering her body slowly, probing, searching. His hands were sleeker than those of other dwarves, but his finger was thick and stretched her tightness. She gulped, her throat suddenly dry. What would it feel like if he …

"You are ready for me," Thorin whispered, clearly in awe. But when he removed his hand and lifted her legs with his strong, powerful arms, she fully expected him to enter her with his manhood. Instead, he came up between her thighs, placing them over his broad shoulders. Then, before she could even try to think, he added, "I have to taste you," and all at once his mouth covered her womanhood, devouring her. She gave a strangled cry as she felt his nose parting her folds, and his lips closed around her throbbing bud, sucking her inside the hot wetness of his mouth.

"Thorin," she gasped, "no, please … you can't …" What was he doing? She'd never heard of anyone making love like that, hadn't even imagined it. Heat flooded her core, and all she felt, all she knew was the touch of his tongue, his incredible, wicked tongue. He circled her pulsating flesh, teased it until she felt like dying from pleasure. Shortly leaving the place that was aching so much for him, the tip of his tongue trailed further down and entered the place where his finger had been before, tasting her juices. She arched up against him breathlessly. How could he possibly want to taste her there, eat her as if she was an exquisite treat? But it was obvious that the dwarf liked what he did, and very much so. The way he deeply groaned with delight, licking her again and again, and the pressure of his hands on her hips, holding her down, left no doubt. His fingers dug into her tender flesh, and maybe she would bear his marks later, but she didn't care at all.

"Thorin, please …" she moaned, begging him for more. There was something she needed, but she didn't understand what it was. She only knew that she'd die if he didn't help her reach it.

Right at this moment, the dwarf's skillful mouth returned to the center of her pleasure, and increased the pressure. With a few firm flicks of his tongue, he brought her over the edge, and she fell apart, helplessly crying out when a raging storm came upon her, taking her away on a wave of incredible, unknown pleasure that swallowed her whole. Still shaken by violent contractions, she hardly noticed when he came over her, fully covering her with his naked body. She felt his hot, hard shaft prodding at her quivering entrance, and then the prince began to sheathe himself into her. He was large, so incredibly large as he entered her with his hardness, and parted her wet, virginal flesh. When he met the barrier that kept him from going deeper, he paused, resting his forehead on hers for a moment.

"This will hurt, Keyla" he whispered, regret in his voice. "There is no other way. Tell me to stop and I will." But the strain on his voice, the slight tremble of his body betrayed his desire for her, and she felt how hard it was for him to hold back.

"Please," she began, and felt him stiffen, expecting she would reject him now. "Take me, Thorin," she added quickly. "But please … I need to touch you."

With a raw sound of utter delight, he reached down to free her from the remnants of her dress, ripping it from her body with ease. She shuddered when she realized how strong he was. About her beautiful dress, she didn't give a second thought. It was a sacrifice she was happy to give, if it enabled her to feel his naked, hot skin against hers. Now there wasn't anything left to separate them anymore.

"That's much better," he said before his lips crushed hers. His tongue stroked the insides of her mouth, coaxing hers to meet him in a slow, seductive dance. Freed from her coincidental bondage now, she wrapped her arms around him, her hands greedily exploring every bit of skin she reached. His skin was soft like velvet, hard muscles tightening under her touch whenever he moved. When she experimentally ran her fingernails up his wide back, he moaned into her mouth. She rejoiced in the overwhelming feeling of the power she wielded over this hard warrior. She had to have him, at once, whatever it would cost her.

"Thorin … now!" she whispered against his lips, and arched her back to welcome him into her body. The dwarf answered her with a mighty thrust of his hips, and she felt her tender flesh tear and finally yield to his overpowering strength. A sharp, ripping pain made her cry out, but he mercilessly shoved himself forward, slowly entering her, stretching her until she felt that she couldn't possibly take more.

He buried his face against her neck, sinking his teeth into her tender skin like a mating wolf. It was just the right amount of pain to cause the most delightful pleasure, and she loved the knowledge that he completely possessed her, marked her as his own. At the same time, he had accomplished to distract her from the pain of their mating, and as she raised her hips, she felt that his full length was now embedded in her, filling her to the hilt. To her surprise, it didn't hurt anymore, and when he began to move, there was only a slight burn left that soon vanished, turning into blinding pleasure. She felt something trickle down her thigh and knew that her virgin's blood was dripping onto the altar now, giving proof of what she had willingly surrendered to her lover. Suddenly, the stone began to vibrate beneath them as if it had developed a life of its own. She opened her mouth to speak but Thorin nodded, indicating that he felt it, too.

"The gods have accepted our sacrifice," he whispered. "We've pleased them." Then he spoke no more, but grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his slender hips, commanding her to hold on tight to him. His mouth began to ravish her body, his lips and tongue wandering over her neck and down to her breasts, covering them with hot, open-mouthed kisses. At the same time, he started to thrust hard into her, again and again without holding back now. She yielded with a choked sob as she placed her hands on his muscular backside and urged him to go deeper. He went out nearly all the way every time, the base of his manhood rubbing against her throbbing flesh before he entered her anew, never stopping until he touched her womb.

Faster, faster he went, pounding into her with all his strength while she screamed and wept with pleasure. Spurned on by her sweet, pleading cries, he slung his mighty arms around her and held her close, desiring to mold her fully into his body. With a heavy, final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her flesh, giving in to absolute rapture as he filled her with his seed. She reached her peak shortly after and spasmed around him with a raw, breathless cry. Tears ran over her face as she was overwhelmed by the joy of hearing him calling her name while the prince lost control and gave in to a powerful, shuddering release.

Dark clouds gathered on the nightly sky, opening at the very moment in a heavy downpour of rain. The lovers were drenched in an instant, but didn't even care while they still clung to each other in the aftermath of their mating. The prince held his human lover tightly in his arms. As he was gently kissing her hair, he was consumed by a single, clear thought. After this wondrous night, he'd never be able to let her go again.

Down in the village, the dwarves raised their faces into the falling rain, seeing the sign. They instantly knew what had happened. The prince and his chosen maiden had performed the ritual as the elders had always intended it to be. Jubilating, they prayed and thanked for the mercy that had been bestowed upon them. The peasants fell onto their knees and wept with joy, for their fields wouldn't lie barren anymore, and their women would give birth to strong, healthy children.

For the first time in over a century, the ritual had been successful. A son of Durin's line had pleased the gods with his sacrifice.

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	8. Chapter 7

**Thank you, again, for all your wonderful reviews! Here's a new chapter for you - not a long one, but I promise to update soon! Hugs, Deb xoxoxo**

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The warm summer's rain had long ceased, and a clear bright moon lit up the sky when Keyla awoke with a start. At first, she didn't know where she was, but a wonderful, comforting warmth surrounded her. She instantly recognized the strong male body that was protectively wrapped around hers, and the scent that had lured her into a very foolish action this morning on the market when she had touched the prince, and kissed his hair. It was, however, a foolish action she wouldn't ever regret for a single moment. Hadn't she dared too much, this beautiful, glorious night would never have happened.

Cautiously, not wishing to raise him from his sleep, she lifted the mighty arm that was slung around her waist and wriggled out of it. Sitting next to him, she allowed her eyes to wander along her lover's body. Usually he was handsome in a dark and rugged way, but here, in the silvery light, he looked beautiful beyond imagining, like a pale god who had descended from the heavens to claim a mortal woman. He looked calm and peaceful in his slumber, and she gently caressed his cheek, her fingers traveling over high cheekbones, his soft, dark beard. He was magnificent, and she greedily drank in his sight, hoping that if she memorized every detail about him, she'd never forget anything in the years to come. After all, this would be enough to keep her company in her lonely bed at night.

For leave him, she must, and she would do it tonight. It was inevitable.

She had to face the truth. They couldn't be together. Even if the prince had developed some feelings for her, the king would never approve a connection between them, not even if she were Thorin's mistress. Especially since she knew the prince's secret now, his grandfather would not allow the house of Durin weakened and tainted by even more human blood. Eventually, Thorin had to choose a bride from the daughters of the most noble dwarven families, and if the gods blessed him, would father heirs. Besides protecting the kingdom, it was his most important duty. He already had reached the age where he would be expected to marry, and neither his family nor his people would tolerate if he wasted his precious time - and royal seed - with a lowly human peasant girl.

Much more important was the fact that right at this moment, she might be carrying Thorin's child. Despite her certainty that his honor would forbid him to desert her should that be the case, he couldn't ever marry her, or publicly recognize his bastard. But it wasn't necessary to place him, or herself, in such a situation. There had to be a better way.

Instead of continuing this affair and risk more passionate encounters with Thorin, she would end his right here, right now. At least, this was her decision, and she wouldn't end up as a woman he loved a few times, then left for good. She didn't want to hear his apologizing words, or even once look into his stormy eyes to find pity there, and feel any hope left in her own heart die away in an instant. It would be more than she could bear. She much preferred to keep her memories of him happy and beautiful, like this night, and untainted by even a hint of bitterness. That way, she'd be able to imagine how it could have been if she'd stayed, even if she only got entangled in her own illusions.

She loved him. Now she knew that she always had, since that first day she had seen him.

Smiling, she looked down to her beloved prince. His wild, tangled mane covered half of his face. She remembered how she had buried her hands in it, feeling its softness. During their passionate lovemaking, one of the braids at his temples had become undone, and she gently renewed it, securing it with a short ribbon that had been left from the lacing of her ruined bodice. Before she became aware of it, a single tear rolled over her cheek, falling down on the smooth white stone of the altar. It felt good to do this for him, pretending he was her husband and she his dutiful dwarven wife.

Her need to graze his lips with a last kiss was almost overwhelming, but she didn't dare, for it would probably wake him. So she just caressed his hair and climbed down from the bed of stone, quickly slipping the torn dress over her head. It had to serve well enough until she reached the safety of her small hut. There, she would pack her meager belongings and the money she had saved, and saddle her horse. At dawn, she would be far away on the northern street, leaving Erebor for good. She should be glad, for it would be a new beginning, promising hope for a respected life among her own kind.

However, as another tear fell down, she knew that there was a part of herself she couldn't just take away from here. It would forever be tied to this place, this moment in time, mesmerized by the sight of her sleeping prince.

She set the first step into the direction that would lead her away, then hesitated, listening to Thorin's soft breathing. Her need to turn around was so overbearing it caused her whole body to hurt and ache for him. Yet she didn't dare to look back only one last time. If she did, she would never be able to leave.

"Farewell, my prince," she whispered. Then she began to run.

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	9. Chapter 8

**Three Weeks Later**

The early autumn nights were still hot, and Keyla wiped the sweat from her brow as she settled down to sleep. The sky was heavy with thick, dark clouds, and the air seemed to bristle. A thunderstorm was coming. She had led her horse into the small hay barn she had found deserted just outside the last human town she had ridden through. Just another place where people treated her with distrust.

Her attempts to find a new home had been feeble so far. How could she have been so naïve to believe that she would be welcomed in human towns, just because she was one of their own kind? A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Oh no. Wherever she went, people avoided her, barely allowed her to talk to them. No one seemed to want to give her work, not even as a kitchen maid, or as a serving wench in a tavern. No one seemed to have a free room for her to live in for a while, despite her readiness to pay with her hard-earned coins. And it had proven nearly impossible to have a look at empty houses on busy streets when she'd considered renting them for her shop.

While the dwarves were ready to do business with anyone, human merchants and craftsmen stayed among themselves, meeting in local guilds. Strangers who wanted to open their own business, however small, were not looked friendly upon, especially not a woman who traveled alone, without a husband who spoke up for her. Keyla hadn't missed their condemning glances, despite all her attempts of explaining that she was an honest woman. Doubtless, they thought she was a prostitute who might draw other loose women into town or even taint their community by opening a brothel. Or they assumed that she had dishonored herself in some way if she didn't live under the protection of a male relative.

She sat down in a pile of straw, burying her face in her hands. What had she been thinking? That it would be easy to start a new life among her people, that they'd welcome her back with open arms? That they'd respect her, befriend her? At least, there had been a place for her in the village at Erebor, and she had been allowed to earn her own income. The dwarves had known that her vegetables were affordable and fresh, and had liked to buy her food; apart from that, they had tolerated her. Maybe now that she had been the prince's chosen one for the Iron Day ritual, she could have asked him for his protection. No one would dare to question his orders if he wished her to stay.

Surely, it wouldn't have hurt her pride too much if she tried to trust him? She knew that he was a good, honorable man, and that he never failed to care and protect his people.

But all these thoughts were in vain. It was too late now. She couldn't go back, not after the cowardly way she left him. It had appeared to be the most reasonable action then, but now …

Now she wasn't so sure anymore. Since the day she had left, the memories haunted her, never left her mind. Even in her dreams she saw him, heard his deep, alluring voice. His eyes, usually so sharp and solemn, glowing up with joy as he danced with her around the fire. His face, taught with desire while he poised over her body, awakening feelings she had never deemed possible. His shining brown hair fanned over her naked breasts, caressing her skin as he slipped deeper to pleasure her with his tongue.

"No, no," she moaned, violently shaking her head. Sometimes it helped to drive away such kind of thoughts for a while. Well, more often not. She would never be able to forget what happened during that night, the things he did to her. But the memories didn't fill her with joy and peace as she had them expected to. Instead, they tortured her, left her body trembling and wet, although there was no hope to have that fire quenched again. There could never be another man after she'd known him.

Even worse was the remembrance of the peace she had felt in his arms, so utterly cherished and protected from the cruelty of the world. His lips had showered her brow and her hair with kisses before she had blissfully drifted asleep, comforted by his incredible strength. The certain knowledge that she'd never again feel such happiness for as long as she lived was more terrible than anything she'd ever encountered. Before that night, it hadn't been frightening for her to be alone, for it had always been that way, for all her life. Sometimes not knowing was a mercy in itself. Now, all she could be sure of was that this was what she had. The loneliness was imprisoning her soul like an impenetrable armor, and it held her heart in its icy grip.

Outside, a deafening burst of thunder cracked through the air like a whip, causing her to cry out. She had always been afraid of thunderstorms. Maybe because of all the times as a child when there had been no one there to comfort her, no motherly arms to hold her tight and tell her that nothing would happen to her, that it wasn't an angry god who had come to destroy the earth and all its creatures.

Wrapping her own arms around her, she rolled to her side as the tears began to flow. A flash of lightning illuminated the inside of the barn. For a moment, she thought she had seen something moving in a corner, but apart from her horse and herself, there was nothing. At least, she sincerely hoped so, for a young woman traveling alone was surely deemed an easy prey by any man who might decide to seek shelter here, too. A small dagger at her belt was her only weapon.

When another peal of thunder, even louder than the one before, made her wince, all hell broke loose. Her horse suddenly seemed nervous and stomped its feet, and she realized that the mare had noticed someone approaching. Outside, she thought she heard the sounds of another horse. Before she could even think of her chances to escape, the door flew open, and a dark figure appeared.

Lightning lit up the room again and bathed the stranger in a pale, eerie light. Keyla gasped when she saw it was Thorin. She'd never witnessed him in such a bad state of appearance. His clothes and armor were dirty, his hair dripping wet and sticking to his wide shoulders and back. His handsome face was smeared with mud, one cheek bruised as if he had been in a fight. But the worst thing was the expression on his face when he saw her cowering in the hay. It was darkened with anger, while his eyes widened. He called out her name, a deep, rough sound that sounded like the growl of a beast.

"So here you are, at last," he said, his chest heaving. He tore at the lacing of his drenched leather armor and dropped it to the floor, now only wearing black trousers, his boots and a dark-blue shirt that was wide open at the neck, revealing the soft, dark hair that dusted his muscular torso. Raindrops were glistening on his skin. Keyla opened her mouth, but dared not to speak, frightened by the fury flaming up in his gaze. At the same time, wild joy flooded her heart, and she wished nothing more but to throw herself into his arms, weeping with relief. Hesitantly, she stretched out her hand.

"Thorin," she said softly, still not believing what she saw. "You've come."

"Of course I have come!" he shouted, his voice rumbling louder than the thunder outside. "Is this really a surprise to you, woman?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I thought I'd never see you again."

He drew nearer with slow, graceful steps, like a hunter circling his prey. "So you hoped. After all, you'd already enjoyed yourself. One passionate night with a prince, and then you just decided to disappear like a thief in the night. Like snow to melt away on a sunny winter's morning, not leaving a single trace."

"No!" she breathed, shocked by his words. "You know that it wasn't like that! Surely you are aware that we can never be together. I am but a lowly, fatherless human, an outcast. So I thought it might be best to …"

"You had no right to make that decision on your own!" he roared, furious now. He stood right before her, raising his fist. To her surprise, his hand was slightly shaking, his fingers pressed together so tightly that his knuckles appeared white against his tanned skin. A new flash of lightning made him look like the dark gods she feared whenever there was a thunderstorm, his wrath and pain troubling his beautiful eyes. For an instant, she almost thought he might attack her, but he only hit his own chest with his fist, right above his heart.

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I awoke on that damned stone, left back like a discarded toy? Have you any idea how desperate I was, running after you like a love-struck fool, fearing that something had happened to you?"

"My prince …," she stuttered. He cut her off with an angry gesture, not allowing her to speak while he worked himself deeper into his rage.

"I thought that one of my enemies had abducted you to hold you for ransom, or maybe some malevolent villagers who didn't approve that I had chosen a human woman," he said. "I hated myself for failing to protect you, for not waking up when they stole you right from my arms. Then …," his eyes went cold, "I found your tracks and followed them to your hut. There was no doubt that you had neatly packed your belongings and left of your own free will. Left without a single word, or a short message so I would know that you were safe."

She hid her face in her hands, her cheeks aflame. "I am so sorry. Thorin … I know that I am unworthy of you. After that night, I'd never thought you would want to see me again. It was just a ritual, after all."

"Oh, believe me, I wanted to," he hissed. "What we shared on that altar, the way you gave yourself to me … I must have been a fool indeed to assume that it meant something to you, just as it meant everything to me. Later, when I learned that you were gone, most probably heading for the human settlements in the north, I knew the truth.

You would start a new life without me, and after your short dallying with a dwarf to satisfy your curiosity, you would choose a husband among your people. Maybe even raise my own son or daughter as one of them." He swallowed, his gaze suddenly dropping down to her flat stomach. "Tell me, Keyla," he said, unable to hide the pain in his eyes. "Do you carry my child?"

Her lips trembled when he rose his eyes to hers again. "I … don't know for sure, not yet," she whispered. "But I might be. I have been feeling strange lately."

"You felt … strange?" he repeated, disbelieving what he heard. His rage returned, and he hauled her to her feet, into his arms. "That's not what I felt, woman. I felt desperate, half-crazed with sorrow and longing. Humiliated, when I rode through countless towns and villages, knocking on doors and asking around if someone had seen you. But I will tell you the truth now: Since you decided to surrender yourself to me that night, you don't belong just to yourself anymore. You are mine, once and for all."

Without another word, his lips claimed her almost brutally, devouring her, showing her clearly that he intended to keep what was his, that he would never share it with anyone. His tongue boldly demanded entry, and she let him, moaning as he stroked the insides of her mouth.

She tied to raise her arms and pull him closer, but he kept her in his iron embrace and moved her until her back was pressed against the wall. There he grabbed both her wrists in a large hand and pinned them above her head while his other hand began to explore her body, reclaiming her as his possession. His warm fingers closed around her breast, massaging her, slightly pinching her nipple until she cried out with pleasure.

He lifted his head and started to ravage her neck with his mouth. "Don't you know that dwarves jealously guard what is theirs?" he murmured between hot, moist kisses. His beard scraped over her sensitive skin, and she shivered. "Our women, and especially the treasures we own." He bit her neck gently, just to emphasize his words.

"Or did you think that just because I am a prince, I'm different?" His lips wandered down, his tongue trailing along her collarbone. "But then, maybe you don't desire a dwarf anymore. Perhaps you have found a human lover who entices you more. Was it him you awaited here, all alone in a barn during a thunderstorm?"

His temper rising again, he roughly shoved his hand into the neck of her dress, searching her naked breast. When he found it, he rubbed and teased one hard peak with his skillful fingers, then the other. She moaned loudly, and he smiled. "Oh yes. Now you remember. I bet your human lover could do that to you, too. But would he touch you the way you crave it, with exactly the right amount of pressure, play you like the complicated instrument you are?" His hand showed her what he meant, and she cried out again, shocked by the intensity of the feelings he stirred inside her body.

She shook her head, too weak to speak, wanting to tell him how ridiculous this was - that she was forced to spend the night in this barn because her own people had sent her away. But at the same time, his jealousy was exciting her more than she would have expected, and it seemed to fire his passion. So if he wanted to punish her for running from him, she would take it. Tonight, she needed him to be rough. It had been too cruel to be without his touch, the feel of his hands on her body. How could he even mention the idea of another lover when she craved him so incredibly, needed him like the very air she breathed?

His hand left her bodice and lifted the hem of her skirts, and a strong, mighty thigh was forced between her legs. Then his fingers were right where she needed him, parting her slick folds. He spread her legs for him instinctively, and he laughed softly. "I see. So you missed me, too, don't you, little human?" She simply nodded, her head lolling against his shoulder as he ran the tip of his finger along her labia, spreading her moisture. He began to enter her while his thumb pressed down to her throbbing pearl, masterfully working it. Exploring her depths first with one, then two fingers, he let them slide in and out while she arched her back, wantonly moving against his hand. She rode his fingers for a while, burying her face in the silky mass of his hair as he held her close to him, pleasuring her.

She already clenched his fingers, yearning for release, when he retrieved his hand and left her shaking with unfulfilled desire. He pulled her dress over her head, his eyes longingly wandering over her as he admired her naked body. Stroking her hair, he reached down to cup her throat gently with his hand, as if he feared that she'd flee from him again.

"Keyla. My precious gem," he murmured lovingly. "My golden treasure. How I have longed for you."

"Thorin," she whispered, her unwept tears flowing freely now. "Without you, I felt like I was dying inside. How could you ever think that I'd take another lover? My so-called people dejected me wherever I went. I wasn't even allowed to speak when I tried to do business with them. How could I have been so naïve to believe they'd take me back with open arms? I don't have a home, my prince, no matter where I turn to. It would be well-deserved if you never wished me to return to Erebor."

"Your home is wherever I'll be, woman," he said earnestly, his eyes searching hers for an answer. "You belong to my side. I'll leave you no choice when it comes down to that simple truth. Not anymore."

He untied his trousers and pushed them down, stepping out of his boots, too. Then his hands were around her waist, lifting her weight with ease and pressing her to the wall. His legs came up around his hips as he moved between them, entering her with a determined, mighty thrust. She cried out when the magnificent sensation of being filled so completely took hold of her, turning her into a mindless, primal creature. "Yes, yes," she whispered into his neck, wrapping her arms around him. "Thorin …"

Without further ado, he began to move. "No human man can ever love you like this, Keyla," he whispered to her, taking her so hard that she felt like fainting. In and out, in and out he went, every time a little deeper until he finally touched the edge of her womb. Groaning, he took her lips in a fierce kiss, entering her with his tongue as well. It was a raw act of taking possession, and she loved how wildly he behaved, despite his usual calm, controlled demeanor. He shoved her against the wall with thrust after thrust, causing her to cry out and rub her body against him, begging him for more. He drove into her body with the determined precision of a blacksmith forging a sword, every stroke pushing her closer to a mind-shattering completion.

After a while, he carried her to the pile of hay and gently lay her down, his body never leaving hers. When he was securely settled between her legs, he began to pound hard and fast into her body, all gentleness gone. She wouldn't have it any other way and began to thrust her hips upwards, meeting his passionate movements. His mouth was everywhere on her skin, licking, biting and suckling hard. She knew that although it didn't hurt, he'd leave her with small red marks, proving her that she was his and his alone. His rhythm was fast and relentless, with the passion of a dwarf who claimed his woman, making her his.

"No matter what you are … or what I am, you are mine," he growled.

"And you are mine," she said, closing her eyes as she began to contract around him. But her dwarf wasn't finished with her yet. With a swift movement, he turned on his back, taking her with him. To her surprise, she suddenly found herself straddling him. He showed her how to move in a deliciously sinful way that made her body rub against his in all the right places.

"Now ride me," he whispered, and she willingly complied. Throwing back her head, her hair fell like a cascade over him, and she moved like a goddess, slowly sliding up and down his manhood. When he felt her contract around him this time, he didn't deny her the pleasure, but closed his eyes and heavily thrust into her a few more times. She felt a storm raging through her body, more powerful than anything she'd experienced so far. Only when her sweet cries filled the air, he allowed himself to join her in her ecstasy. It took him just a few strokes until he lost control. Shivering, he hoarsely called her name and finally plunged over the edge, spilling himself into her welcoming body.

Panting, she collapsed on his chest, spent and incredibly happy. His arms were around her, holding her so tight it almost hurt, but she loved it. It felt like heaven to have him so close, his alluring male scent surrounding her, his skin next to hers.

"I love you, Keyla Slatestone," he said at last.

"And I you, Thorin, son of Thráin," she answered. Their words sounded binding, like a vow, and she felt that something between them shifted into the right place, fulfilling the fate that had brought them together on Iron Day. "Will you forgive me for leaving you, my prince?"

"I have no intention of granting you this favor, ever," he said, taking her hand into his larger one and kissing it gently. "This way, you'll have to make it up to me every day like you just did, and while you're at it, I'll make sure that you never leave my side again."

She laughed happily. "So be it. But when would you wish me to begin with my new task, my liege … making it up to you?" she whispered as her hand slowly trailed down his chest, playing with his hair for some time before she went deeper, over his flat, sculpted stomach. When she reached his shaft and tenderly closed her hand around him, she was delighted to hear his deep sound of pleasure. She felt him pulsate and harden against her, and suddenly she became aware of the power she wielded over his body as well as his heart.

"You have no idea how unforgiving I can be, my beloved," Thorin said. He flipped her over and covered her with his strong, tall body once more. Without realizing it, the place she could call home had been waiting for her all the time, although it wasn't located in a house, or a town, not even among people who shared her own blood.

Home was wherever he was, right there in his arms.

oooooOOOOOOOOOooooo


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